


The Not Quite Believable Tale of Intergalactic Catering

by ateliertamsin



Category: Doctor Who (2005), The Book Group (TV)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Friendship, Janice is suddenly the next companion to the scary lady with the death beam, Janice is the book nerd, Missy is the world dominating super genius, Podfic Available, Podfic Linked, That's a joke, The most ambitious crossover, Time Travel, Who also listens to janice talk about books while rewiring the console, book nerds, stress-baking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-13 03:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21487936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ateliertamsin/pseuds/ateliertamsin
Summary: Janice McCann isn't special. She isn't unique, or different, or important. Or, at least that's what she tells herself. She can bake. She can read. She can smile and look pretty. And that's it.So why is she on a space ship with a scary lady with a death beam? And why does she feel like those things that she's distanced herself from in the books she reads are getting closer and closer to reality?Missy snags an unlikely companion. Janice McCann finds a lot more reasons to stress bake.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Press X to Start

The Not Quite Believable Tale of Intergalactic Catering

Chapter 01 // Podfic Link: [Here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21766888)

* * *

At first, Janice wondered if she had had a drink too close to bed, and consequently, too close to falling asleep reading a sci-fi novel. It would have been a good theory, if not for the fact that Janice had not been reading a sci-fi novel of any sort. And hadn’t in the past few months. It was actually a shame, she thought, to not be reading more fantastical stories, though she was glad a little due to the lack of imagination her book group members had. Janice knew that the book on her night stand was a romance novel, set in a “realistic setting” of the 1940s. Post World War II England. 

Janice wasn’t denying that 1940s England was realistic. It was very much a tangible thing. But the author? It was very romantic. And romanticised. And Janice wasn’t sure exactly what to make of that and how she would mention that the entire thing seemed to jolly and happy to be suitable. And then when she looked up the author, first on the back cover, then on the internet, she came to find he was an American author. His history degree, she thinks, perhaps a bit snidely, was wasted on this.

She wasn’t finished yet. She was already thinking of all the candies and cakes she could bake to make this book worth saving. Actually, Janice may have cursed offering to cater the event if not for the 1940s recipe book she found at an antique store just a few weeks before the book was assigned.

Well. Now that she thought of it, maybe the author was on to something? Who ever really knew history if they hadn’t lived it? Perhaps the author knew it as some sort of happy jubilee. Maybe it was?

“Are you brooding? I can’t quite tell.”

Janice peels her face from the windows of the machine. The transport machine. 

“TARDIS,” the woman interrupts. The _ other _woman. The one who Janice wasn’t sure she could believe or trust. 

It’s a little cold in the... TARDIS... with her cashmere sweater clinging to her and a t-shirt besides. The other woman, with wild hair and even wilder eyes, tsks at her unpreparedness. 

“Pardon?” Janice is very quiet, and has been since the events that caused this... situation.

“You were calling this... device... a ‘transport machine,’ which I find highly offensive,” the woman, Missy, admonishes. 

Was she? “Was I?” Janice pulls her sweater closer, hugs herself. Wonders why it’s cold. Then reminds herself... _ I think I’m in the vacuum of space. _

Missy scoffs. “If you wouldn’t think so loud, dear...” she trails off, though her meaning is understood.

Janice feels both an urge to explore and wander off. There is silence as Missy, with expert timing and choreography, revs the TARDIS into action. Against the vast void of space, Janice feels the world lurch forward, nearly being thrown from her space near the doors.

“And hold on to something, if you please!” 

Janice didn’t know if the woman was mocking her or not. Her voice was dramatic in tone, but the accent? Well, Janice was just plucked off the streets of Glasgow, wasn’t she? It wasn’t as if this _ Missy _ didn’t know where she’d abducted the woman from. 

Another lurch, and Janice felt her footing give, launched forward down the short entrance of the TARDIS and catching herself on the controls before truly going down. 

This wouldn’t have happened if Janice had just picked up the proper herbs from the store on the first time. She’d made a quick run out to see if she could get the proper mixes so she’d have dinner ready. Well, a pop up shop with exactly what she needed stood on the corner. A tent, though fairly solid in looks, was parked on an empty lot. Actually, Janice would have sworn, in all her time in Glasgow, that there should have been a different shop there. Still, Janice went in to see. And... well... it was a lot bigger on the inside.

Missy snorted at the thought. “Oh, come on,” she says, gesturing down to Janice, who was dazed for a moment before her senses began returning. “Did I pick the worst companion?”

“Companion?” Janice was trying to pick herself up off the ground of the transport machine--“TARDIS.”--before spinning around, this time, her grip firmly on a support rail. “I’m sorry, what did you call me?”

Missy smirked. “Well,” she says, easily making her way around the console and flicking and flipping a few more switches, “normally I’d call you a pet. Or a snack!”

Janice’s heart sank. 

“But I think I’ll take after my dear friend, The Doctor, and call you a companion or something silly and sentimental like that.” She claps her hands like it’s the best idea, but Janice’s own mind was a little farther back.

“I’m sorry. ‘The Doctor?’ Doctor Who?” 

Missy erupted into giggles at that. “Oh, I have to tell him--her?--that his name is still a confusion. For someone who wants to heal the world and be a good man and all that tosh, he really does a good job of splitting heads! Though,” she adds, a wicked glimpse to her new companion, “I do a much better job of the literal thing.”

In truth, Janice didn’t want to admit her knees were going weak. She actually wished the TARDIS would lurch so she could fall with some sort of reason. If she were lucky, maybe it would throw her far enough to knock her out. “Um... then what’s it you want with me then?” Janice asks, trying to open the topic lightly. 

To which Missy replies, “Oh... traveling all of time and space is a lonely affair, you know. I would much rather have someone with me.” _ Well _ , Missy thinks, safe to know that this primitive human couldn’t hear her, _ that’s only partially true. Humans are more the _ his _ thing. If she proves troublesome, maybe I’ll just send her out the vacuum of space. _

“Wouldn’t a book suffice,” Janice asks, getting that lurch in the machine at a time she actually wouldn’t have wanted. She went sailing down the side of the console, though the only grace of it was being flung farther than this woman. She found herself on her back this time, seeing a few stars. 

That was the answer. Missy scoffs, for not the first time this outing. _ How long had they been gone? _“Books aren’t as entertaining, duck,” Missy says, walking towards the woman but stepping over her legs to a monitor on the wall.

Everything in Missy’s TARDIS was an awkward shade of grey. It felt industrial and cramped. Which seemed to fit her personality but not her dress

Janice thought Missy should, based on appearance, be more kind. She looked like an Edwardian Governess, for Lord’s sake. She thought that the soft hues of purple she was wearing now lent themselves to a kinder demean or. But no. When Janice looked at Missy now, she knew better. The woman had a cutting wit. 

“Why me?”

She hadn’t meant to ask. There were probably many different ways Missy could have taken that. Why me? Janice didn’t think she was anything special. She could cook. She could be domestic. She could organize and deal with the subtle politics of housework. But she wasn’t sure she was of much use to an intergalactic pirate.

“Excuse me, ‘intergalactic pirate?’” Missy looks at her, amused. Entertained by the wayward thoughts of one such suburban footballer’s wife. “This isn’t some drama.”

Janice isn’t one to talk back, but she _ had _been asked. “Erm-- I’d seen... a film about them. In the 70s.”

Missy rolls her eyes, unceremoniously. “Ah. Star Wars. An inaccurate portrayal of life among the cosmos, but there you are. Janice may have laughed had she not been so terrified. 

“Anyhow. Go back to your thoughts, why don’t you? You were talking about all your good qualities? If you keep going, I might not ask you to say something nice. Verbally.”

If Janice knew what the phrase meant, she probably would have been more terrified. But she continued, trying to think, and talk, though her points. “Um-- I’m... I’m good at cooking, and baking, and entertaining, but I lack that sort of adventure that I think you-- space... adventurers have?”

“Time Lady.”

Janice blinks, confused. “Time... Lady?”

“Time Lord, technically,” Missy admits, though she disregards that with a wave of a hand, “I’m a Time Lady. Not a space pirate, or rogue, or adventurer. So before you resume, please get your terminology right.” She’s staring at Janice, who was still sat on the ground, though at least upright. She was holding on, deathly tight, to another rail. This one along the outside of the console area.

“Okay. I just don’t think I’m the sort of people that Time Ladies... would want as a side-kick. A companion,” she corrects quickly. “I’m small. I’m not that impressive or anything. I bake elaborate foods and that’s it.”

“So you can cater my world dominations! Excellent!”

Janice is at a loss for words, but finds she can’t argue for long as a different sort of lurch overtakes the machine. A settling and a large thud and the ship--TARDIS--has landed.

“Ah,” Missy says, cheerfully, and fully disregarding and ignoring any of Janice’s protests. None were formed, but Missy could already hear the loud, anxious makings of them. “That’s our stop! Come on, love, let’s head out. People to meet, worlds to conquer.”

Janice finds herself up on her feet, being ushered out the door. “But I-” She begins, but Missy will have none of it. She’s grabbed her umbrella and her hat from the hat stand--why hasn’t _ that _ fallen over?--and is practically dragging Janice out the door. “Adventure awaits and whatnot! Come on, then. It’s like a girl power adventure. New planet overlords! It’ll be fun!”


	2. Mission 001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janice's First True Off World Adventure.

“Not bad, human. But next time we evade a mutiny... maybe at least duck and roll. At least that has some style to it.”

* * *

Missy was a very observant person. She prided herself on that matter. She noticed the accelerated heart rate of her companion before she excused herself, a bit panicked. She noticed Janice’s need to carry a book with her while off-worlding. She even noticed Janice’s desire to bring an extra pair of glasses with her just in case.

They were little things to think about, but Missy wasn’t just going to ignore them if she could remember those small details.

Janice was currently on her next kitchen crusade, which Missy wasn’t going to stand in the way of. It certainly beat her thinking--and consequentially, overthinking--world domination as an entire idea. Janice had made a pretty accurate assessment in the idea that she, Janice, was not the best companion type for world domination. Or, at least, if her leader was anyone like the doctor. Missy could do it all alone, and had for centuries, but it was a bit nice to have someone around. Or at least more entertaining. Missy was not going to admit that Janice was “nice” to have around. She was certainly too good of a person to consider--for a normal person to consider--having around. 

For one... she cooked entirely too much. Spreads of food. Tables full. Missy figured it was some sort of way of coping, which wasn’t particularly minded. There were plenty of resources to bring into the TARDIS to help her on her mission. And like she’d said, if Janice was cooking, she wouldn’t have to think about Missy’s plans. She could obliviously perfect the garnish on the cakes and deserts and entrées and appetizers. 

In the first few weeks, Missy, who was far from charitable, even gave some of the food to the conquered people, as Janice was too anxious to even step off of the TARDIS once domination began. 

“You’re humming, then?”

Janice spins around, surprised. She’s got a dish in her hand. Or... Dutch Oven? Missy looks at it with a raised eyebrow. From what Missy could see, it was a casserole. Not that it really mattered. 

She stands rooted. Taken off guard. 

Missy’s surprised that Janice isn’t fidgeting with her hands, but then again, the woman has to hold the dish. Which suits Missy alright. 

They stand in silence for a moment, with Missy just staring at Janice and Janice’s face turning a bit redder with every passing second. 

“You’re humming,” Missy repeats, a statement that is not quite a question, but does open itself to be elaborated on. 

Janice is still rooted, but at least does herself the help of setting down the dish on the counter as to keep from burning her hands. She stalls a moment, but Missy’s gaze is relentless. “Um... yes. I’m just... keeping myself busy.”

“You’ve kept yourself busy by cooking nearly 24/7/12,032,” Missy replies, her tone even. Perhaps even a deadpan if she thought of it.

“Twelve... thousand and thirty-two?” Janice asks.

“Hush love, that’s just what time’s like around here,” Missy dismisses. “Don’t you want to wander off onto a foreign planet? It’s fun, you know.”

Janice is silent a moment. “Well, I gather food sometimes,” she says.. 

“That’s all the sight-seeing. Not any of the really, really fun bits,” Missy says.

“Well, I’m not sure how I feel about conquering worlds,” Janice admits, awkwardly. 

Missy scoffs. “Well, that’s no good. You’ve got to come to a true conquering. They’re festive.”

“Festive?”

“If I’m going to appoint myself queen, then I’ve got to have at least some true fun with it,” Missy says, gesticulating with a flair. 

Janice eyes her with scepticism. “I’m still not sure how I feel being... party--”

“It is a party!”

“Being an accomplice,” she says, a bit forcefully, which catches Missy off guard, “to a ‘conquering,’ as you call it. I don’t want to... hurt anyone. It seems like you’ve got to do a lot of damage when you do it. And I don’t know about it.”

Missy actually looks a little surprised. Or a little surprised for how Missy can look surprised. She once told River Song she was 27 steps ahead of anyone, but she never said she didn’t have multiple eventualities. Janice was a surprising creature in her shyness. In her modesty and meekness. 

Because it wasn’t quite that.

Missy had dealt with companions and enemies who had some form of timid energy. But Janice was different. She was the type of person whose timidness wasn’t from lack of wanting to be heard. It was from a fear of being heard.

Janice’s posture when she would suggest something, something as inconsequential as a cookie preference, appeared a bit tensed. Like she was holding herself together to prevent a rejection of some kind. 

Missy did notice. But when Janice began to show more signs of being comfortable around Missy, or as comfortable as she could be knowing Missy was the sort with a laser umbrella and the knowledge for 473 ways to kill a person in 3 seconds on her mind, Missy saw a bit more interest.

It wasn’t uncommon for Missy to be disappointed with the people she plucked off shop roads. If they annoyed her, she knew what to do. If they weren’t entirely worthless but just didn’t suit her, she might feel a bit generous and wipe a section of their mind and drop them at the constable’s station. 

No, Missy wondered with Janice, but Janice was proving an interesting acquaintance.

“So... no killing, then?”

Janice looks astonished to hear Missy say ‘killing’ so casually.

“I’m... sorry.”

“As am I. But if it gets you out of your shell, in this case... a kitchen in a paradox box, I’ll just have to create some fun rules to the game.”

Janice’s eyebrows knit lightly. She’s confused and concerned but also considerate. She takes off her oven mitts and cautiously walks towards the Time Lady with care. “So... if I come with you off-world... and you decide to take over a kingdom somehow... or a colony or what have you... you won’t hurt anyone?”

Missy’s hands are up in a moment. “Kill,” she clarifies, definitely. “I won’t kill anyone. Hurting is... well, I make no promises on that, dear.”

There’s another hesitation, which Janice seems to be full of. She doesn’t know if this is a good deal or not. Because honestly, she doesn’t really want Missy to conquer at all. But there is the fact that Missy did say no one would be killed and the kitchen, despite being a very fluid room with many options, was getting a bit cramped.

Actually, Janice was feeling... claustrophobic about the whole thing.

“So no killing,” Janice repeats.

Missy holds out a hand, a signifier that maybe she would keep her word. 

“And... no maiming,” Janice adds, carefully.

There’s a look of disappointment on Missy’s face, though Janice is glad that it is at least not a look of anger or disgust.

With a moment of thought, Missy gives in, signs, and shakes Janice’s now slightly out-stretched hand.

“It’s a deal, love.”

* * *

“It was going so well,” Missy half-shouted over the sound of contraband gunfire.

Janice was running best she could in her slip-on flats. Lord, this was not what she had planned at all. An explosion and a burst of energy and tree leaves catch her off guard and she nearly slips down a section of Earth. 

It _was _going well. Janice was having a good time. Missy had come in softly, a diplomat more than a dictator, and won over the population with her charisma. She was helpful, kind, and sweet. Offering to help them with their food shortages, even explaining Janice's ability to introduce new cuisine to their lives. They seemed _happy _about it. They looked happy.

And Janice was so happy to help. She worked in the kitchen for part of the day to help arrange dinner. She enjoyed her catering gig. She even found some familiar-style herbs and introduced some new ways to season their existing dishes. And for the most part, Janice found it was calm and peaceful. Missy even called it a casual integration technique.

_"See, not every takeover involves guns a-blazing." _

She couldn't figure out what had gone wrong! Until... Missy running down the corridor as a pie was baking and calling for Janice immediately. Skirts flying, Janice running out of the kitchen the moment a fireball engulfed the placed she once was. The entire over flaming, and Janice's heart wrenched because... wasn't this perfect? Wasn't peaceful co-existence fine? 

Missy hadn't even threatened anyone to gain any power. She was suave. She worked her way into the room, through the room, and gained trust. The people _wanted _her. So what was happening now.

The thought breaks as Janice worries about the potential of a sprained ankle as the small cliff she'd fallen from crumbles more.

Missy’s caught her arm at the last moment and half-drags the unbalanced Janice down another path, near the way they came. Janice could see the beautiful flowers they’d seen when they first walked off the TARDIS dancing in the distance.

Her balance restored, Janice is back, trying to run properly again. She was thankful Jackie tried to train Wee Jackie in a little football, and thankful that Wee Jackie asked that Janice come along. Of course, that was long ago. When Wee Jackie still cared for his mother’s company. She’s reminiscing now, and that’s when she feels the ground drop from under her.

Or— no. 

She’s half-flying through the air, and she screams for a moment as she sees the earth... ground... fast approaching. She’d thought if she was gonnae get concussed at some point in her life, it was from a stray football. Not hitting the ground on an alien planet. 

Janice holds her hands out, as if, perhaps, they’d break her fall. Rough hope. She’d probably break them to—

“Hmmph!”

She’s afraid to look. But she doesn’t feel as if she’s died or dizzy, so that’s good.

“Thanks for the stay, you lot! Better luck next time!”

A familiar whirring and Janice looked up, really looked up, not even aware she’d closed her eyes.

Missy’s caught her before she could hit the ground, and the TARDIS, the doors not even closed yet, was taking off over the soured faces of villagers below. Missy sneers at them before dragging Janice, legs gone week, back to the central console room.

When they’re a bit more steady in the air—or was it time?—Janice untangles herself from Missy’s arms and finds herself a heap on the floor.

Missy’s laughs a bit, amused but also considerate. “Not bad, human. But next time we evade a mutiny... maybe at least duck and roll. At least that has some style to it.”

“A mutiny was not in the plans!” Janice fires back, out of breath. “Why’d you have to do that!?” She nearly cries though it is strained and rough form Janice’s panting.

Missy shrugs. “Sometimes, when folks are a bit out of control, you’ve got to destroy a few crops.”

Janice looks disgusted and appalled. “No. No, you don’t!”

She wants to cry, but she thinks Missy wouldn’t care. Missy’s stoic through Janice’s display of emotion. It’s like talking to a wall, Janice thinks, hurt. But Missy surprises her after she’s calmed slightly. 

A flower from the field outside the TARDIS sits in her hand, then in Janice’s hair.

“Sometimes,” Missy begins, turning away, “when you hear plans to overthrow the new leadership by holding the ‘nice one’ hostage... you do what you can so everyone makes it back.”

It’s uncharacteristic of Missy to sound at all like she really cares. Missy’s the sort to laugh at misery and taunt you at literal gunpoint. And Janice was just a human, wasn’t she? So why would Missy care? This was all some sort of big game, wasn’t it? But Missy’s tone... it isn’t overly compassionate or coddling... but it isn’t cruel either. Janice sits speechless on the floor, the sweet aroma of the flower tickling her nose. 

Missy’s not looking at her still and even begins to stalk out of the console room. Janice is still stunned, but begins to thank her... she thinks. But the words get caught in her throat, probably where her tears are, and Missy escapes unthanked.

And Janice is alone, the sound of her anger and frustration hanging around the air like eerie echoes, her words still stuck with her thanks, not willing to face rejection.

**Author's Note:**

> This odd idea came about out of a Discord discussion, and I'd love to thank every one of my new pals for helping me with it! :-)


End file.
